The Tragedy Known as Clark Kent
by iron.soldier
Summary: The Daily Planet falls into utter chaos after Lex Luthor launches an attack upon it. Lois Lane arrives at the scene far too late - and who pays the price for this? Clark Kent.
1. I Am Superman

**This is my first ever attempt at this sort of fanfiction/oneshot, so please be kind. o.o**

_**"Parachute" by Ingrid Michaelson would work as a beautiful theme/background song.**_

* * *

><p>Clark clacked away on his typewriter, his blue eyes feverish and bright. The man's gaze was lit up with a creative light, Lois Lane noted, a light that only the truest of writers could have shown. His fingers seemed bent on remaining an indescribable blur to all, and he did not notice Miss Lane staring at him.<p>

Wow. She couldn't help but blink in surprise. She knew Smallville could type fast - but _this _fast? What the hell?

Lois gave a nonchalant cough, attempting wake Clark out of his trance-like state in which he hunched over his work. The cough worked well enough - Kent jumped in his seat, startled by the intentional noise, and he was jarred enough so that he stopped typing. She watched him, as he stood up from his squeaky office chair, fiddled for a moment with his horn-rimmed glasses, and looked around the huge room. It took exactly two seconds for him to realize that Lois was staring at him.

"H-Hi, Lois!" When Clark flashed his trademark, absolutely _dorky _grin at her, she couldn't help but amusedly smile back. He had an enchanting sweetness about him, Lois thought, an untouched innocence that only a 5-year-old child could have.

"Hey, Clark," Lois said, as he walked up to her. "You've got quite a talent."

She watched conflicting emotions cross Clark's face - confusion, bewilderment, a tinge of pleasure, suspicion; even a little bit of _fear. _Fear! Lois almost laughed. She knew Kent was easily startled by a lot of things, but even then, why should he be afraid of a small compliment?

"Typing," She clarified, when he continued to stare at her in that odd, bi-polar way. "Typing. You're a good typer, Clark. Get it?"

This response seemed to send a jolt into the man, and his voice became very small.

_"Oh._"

That was it was it. A quiet, almost disappointed, little _'oh.' _Lois was shocked as she saw Clark's china-blue eyes dull alarmingly fast within a second's notice. She was even _more _shocked when Clark turned and walked away from her. He seemed to have fallen into an extreme pit of gloom.

"Kent?" Lois could do little more than call after him in confusion. "Kent? What did I say wrong?"

"It's nothing, Lois," Clark sighed, and sat back down on the chair at his desk. "It's always nothing."

* * *

><p><strong>[The Next Morning]<strong>

"L-Lois - Lois!" Frantic, almost terrified voices brought her to consciousness. Lois blinked, yawned, and tried to translate the jumble of panicky words coming from Richard's lips. Richard - her fiancée.

"What is it?" She mumbled and turned in their bedsheets. "Richard - will you stop shaking me and tell me -"

"Perry just called," He gasped, looking terribly pale. "The Daily Planet - it's been attacked. People have been shot. The place is burning."

"**WHAT? !**" Lois emitted a noise that was a cross between a howl of disbelief and a screech of agony. Both were uncharacteristic sounds for the female reporter to be making. "It can't be...! I mean - I mean - _S-Superman_ - he wouldn't let - let it -"

As she stammered and bumbled with her words, Richard threw on a work suit, clumsily knotted his tie, and slammed on his shoes - without socks. He turned and began yelling (in a very patient, kind tone) at her to get moving. But there was no response. Finally, when it was undeniable that Lois wouldn't move, he reached over, picked her up, and began carrying her out the door.

"Jason - darling - mommy and daddy are leaving early today!" Richard shouted up the stairs. "Breakfast is in the microwave! Make sure you aren't late for the school bus!"

"Mmm-hmmm..." Jason mumbled, but his parents were already out the front door by the time his sleepy voice drifted from the top of the banister to the first floor.

* * *

><p>"Damn traffic!" Richard impatiently drummed his fingers against the handles of the steering wheel. He shot an anxious glance behind him, at his fiancée. "Don't worry, Lois, we'll get there soon."<p>

_Lois just stared at him. Her hazel eyes, once so brilliant, so fierce, were now glazed with a retrospective forethought._

_"If Superman were here, he'd fly me straight to the Planet, in a blink of an eye. You, Richard White, are pathetic in comparison. Now let me out of this car! We are no longer destined to be married! Jason is my son and Superman's - not your's! Never your's! How could I ever love you - the nephew to a man who owns a newspaper company - when I love the man who has won every woman's heart in the world? ! This man can lift continent! He's exotic and has perfect hair! Not to mention he's good-looking! _

_"H__e wants ME, Richard White, ME. How can I possibly deny the strongest, handsomest, most-sought-after, perfect man in all of the world - NO - in all of the universe? ! I hate you Richard White! I'll never love you - "_

**Beeeep!**

Richard gasped as he emerged from his horrid daydream. He blinked, and then realized that Lois was screaming at him (_"RICHARD, TURN AROUND!")._

**Screech!**

Faster than someone sane would dare to go, Richard White slammed his foot on the gas pedal and - giving a yelp of mixed surprise and delight - their car shot forward like a bullet. It took all of his concentration to weave the intricate, illegal path he created through the tides of people, cars, and miscellaneous, and even then, with all of his attention and focus, the car still received a few good scratches.

"YOU'RE A CRAZY MAN, RICHARD!" Lois shrieked as they bobbed and literally leaped over traffic. "BUT THAT'S WHAT I LOVE ABOUT YOU!"

He grinned, and continued to speed forward. It was quite their luck that no police officer had caught them yet.

* * *

><p><strong>[At the Daily Planet]<strong>

_"Clark? Clark?_" Through the chaotic web of screaming people and thick, poisonous smoke, Jimmy Olsen anxiously called out his friend's name. Jimmy had heard someone say that a man with glasses and black hair had taken a bullet. "CLARK?"

"J-Jimmy...O-Over here..." Mr. Kent's voice came out as an unusually weak whisper. Jimmy hurried to find him. "I'm...under the broken...broken desk."

Broken desk? He glanced around, overwhelmed by how many broken work desks there were. It took him a moment to spot the fleeting flash of a china-blue eye underneath a pile of wooden shards and jagged glass streaks. And then he ran.

Clark was just beginning to pull himself out of the wreckage.

"Mr. Kent!" Jimmy gasped, horrified by the long gashes of blood that stained Clark's face. "Oh - God - "

"It's alright, Jimmy," Clark said soothingly. "I'm fine - just a little wound in my shoulder."

But the older man's calm words could not mask the genuine agony he suffered. Jimmy pulled back, suspicion aroused, and scrutinized Clark as he struggled to a standing position. A low choke of surprise ripped itself away from Jimmy's throat as he saw the strange blue and red material revealed underneath Clark's torn clothing.

"C-Clark?" He whispered, while helping the man to his feet. He pointed at the most prominent slash of red that was showing from beneath Mr. Kent's shirt. "What is - What's that?"

Clark's eyes darkened. He looked at himself - for the first time in over an hour - and swore mentally. _Damn it! _The vibrant scarlet-and-blue Kryptonian silk for his Superman suit was visible, as deep scratches had cut apart his regular clothing. A crazy explanation would be required to satisfy Jimmy - but Clark barely had any strength to hold himself up (thanks to the bullet made of Kryptonite that seared into his skin), much less come up with a hair-brained idea in the blink of an eye. His knees buckled at the thought of Lois coming in last second and discovering his secret identity. Now _that _would suck.

"I-I can't explain t-today, Jimmy," Clark groaned, heavily relying on Jimmy as a weight support. He saw that the younger man was having trouble holding him up. "I'm...I'm sorry, I really am. But...I just can't..." Suddenly, Clark elicited a sound of pain through his clenched teeth. It took a moment for the agony of Kryptonite to pass. "...I'm just to exhausted...really, I am."

"It's alright, Clark," Jimmy said, trying to sound bright and cheery like his usual self as he helped the other man to the stairs. "...I'm gonna guess that you're Superman - but that's be stupid of me, right?"

He gave a weak laugh, attempting to be humorous so that Clark would feel a little bit better. But Jimmy's heart sank as he heard Clark moan.

"N-Never mind," Jimmy stammered, and took the first few steps down. "Let's just get out of here, _before _the building collapses."

For Clark, even with his friend's assistance, it was becoming huge struggle to merely stand on his feet. The hot, popping crackle of fire was the only sound Clark needed to realize that they were going far too slow. At the painstakingly slow speed of their descent, he knew that flames would tear them apart quickly enough. He had no strength left to fly -

And so, Clark halted on the seventeenth step, just staring at Jimmy. Jimmy stared right back. In fact, the young man's stare was incredibly similar to that of a furious, almost desperate glare.

"Go," Was all Clark could say. His cliquant eyes shone like reflective blue mirrors. "Please. Consider it a favor."

"I'm not going to be the one to say that Superman became a martyr!" Jimmy shouted. Apparent rage bubbled to the young photographer's surface. "You lied to all of us, and you still expect a favor on my behalf? !"

"Yes, I do," Clark replied, as his fists tightened with absolutely stubborn bitterness. "Jimmy - you don't have to tell anyone who Mr. Kent really was. Just play along with the rest of the world. Tell Lois that _Clark Kent_ was shot and killed in an instant. Tell her that Lex Luthor would be deranged enough to _kill_ anyone she or Superman was close to. Tell her that Clark remained a bumbling, shy, awkward coward till the end. Please...just...just _tell _her!"

With his final words there was a silent, ringing truth to them. Jimmy felt a cold, numbing horror grip him as he realized what Superman was about to do.

_"No!"_ He cried - but it was too late.

Superman threw out his fist and - using the last reserves of his energy - pounded it into the stairway's side. There was great rippling shiver that ran down the Daily Planet's interior and exterior, and all at once, chunks of marble, glass, cement, and brick came raining down upon Clark Kent. Clouds of dust smothered Jimmy's throat and Jimmy, coughing, spluttering, and crying, was forced to back away from the destruction and run down the nearly-broken steps left solely for him.

Jimmy couldn't look back - or else, he knew, a guilt would poison him for eternity.

* * *

><p><strong>"Is that Jimmy? !"<strong>

Lois Lane gave a cry of relief as she saw - albeit dust-covered, winded, and unconscious on his feet - Jimmy Olsen come out of the midst of the flames. She and Richard White were the first ones to embrace his return.

"Hey, Jimmy, _buddy!_" She practically squeezed him into jelly with her death-hug, but she didn't care. _Someone_, she knew, _someone _was alright. "Thank God, you're alive!"

As she pulled back, her smile faltered. Jimmy's expression was so broken, so ravaged.

"L-Let go of me," He gasped. Jimmy pushed away from her and attempted to reenter the burning building, but Richard kept an iron grip on him. Jimmy began to struggle with the other man, but he was already too exhausted. He tried to explain himself. "_I have to go back - he's - Clark - dead - it's all my fault - and - and Lex Luthor - Superman - too much, too many - fire - fire - fire everywhere -"_

Jimmy collapsed abruptly.


	2. Dead or Alive?

**I was overwhelmed by the positive feedback I received for my so-called oneshot, and so, I decided to pound out an update for you awesome people. A thousand thank-you's go out to Mouserocks-Nerd, as she was the one who suggested I write a oneshot to get my creative juices flowing. So, err, thank you!**

**Oh - I almost forgot! I'm searching for plot advice, so anyone who can/wants to reply - Please P.M. me! This strange little offer is also open to Mouserocks-Nerd, my original spandex buddy. ^.^**

**"Obliviate," composed by Alexandre Desplat, would work nicely with this chapter.**

* * *

><p>Lois Lane felt the shards of her heart turn and spin and crack against each other in a bloody kaleidoscope of agony. The world seemed to have keeled underneath her feet as the true weight of Jimmy's words struck her. She had to close her eyes in order to think clearly...and not start sobbing.<p>

_"...Clark dead...Lex Luthor...Superman...too much, too many...fire...fire...fire everywhere...Clark dead - dead - dead - dead -"_

"Lois - come on!" Richard's voice brought her back to reality. "**_Now,_** Lois!"

Her eyes opened and Lois Lane found herself staring the burning building dead in its fiery eye. Right then and there, she realized she didn't give a _damn_ about where Superman was. She didn't give a damn that Jimmy was unconscious in Richard's arms. She didn't give a damn that the Daily Planet was going up in flames. And she most certainly didn't give a damn about the risks she was taking. All she could think of was the last time she'd seen Clark Kent grin at her and say "golly." Hell to everything else - she'd miss that sweet, country-boy smile.

"What are you -" It hurt her to leave Richard like this, but Lois knew it was the only way. "LOIS!"

She forced herself not to hear - not to listen, not to feel the pain - and ran straight for the Planet's spinning doors. The firefighters were too surprised to stop her. Richard was screaming for her to come back, but Jimmy Olsen was the dead-weight that restrained him. And...and...and...Superman was nowhere to be seen. When Lois realized that not even the Man of Steel could stop her, a cold, numbing satisfaction seemed to have infected her thoughts. Today and today only, Miss Lane did not need a savior - for this was a suicide mission.

* * *

><p><strong>[The Daily Planet]<strong>

Clark Kent's world was made of nothing but fire, kryptonite, and agony - the agony of still being alive. Pain seared the darkest corners of his mind, poisoning his every breath with a low gasp; burning the weakened portions of his flesh exposed to the starved flames; eclipsing all of possible and impossible reality. Dear Lord - he was barely able to think - let death come soon. This suffering...this suffering was too much. It was too much for the man caught between two identities and one person.

_"CLARK!"_

Great. If he hadn't been enduring such torment at the time, Clark would've shaken his head. This torture was slowly turning him insane - for he could hear Lois Lane calling his name. Even worse, Lois was uttering _"Clark"_ with a tone of such worry and love for him - with a tone of such fury and rage at the ones that had done this to him- that it made his heart crumble deep inside his chest.

He was so selfish. So incredibly, undeniably, infuriatingly goddamned selfish -

_"Smallville - where are you? !" _Her voice. Lois' voice. _"Please, Clark, make some sort of noise if you can hear me! I've got to get you out of here!"_

Buried beneath a makeshift coffin of rubble and brick and flames, Clark struggled with his emotions. He barely had any strength left - if he called out for his love's help now, there would probably be no way either of them would escape alive. He knew he had to remain sedative and let Lois believe that he was dead, or else his sacrifice would be a complete waste.

But then, something happened that he never expected.

Lois Lane found him. Out of the nothingness and dust - light suddenly poured into his bleary line of vision. Shock kept his eyes open.

"CLARK? Oh - oh my- oh _god._" Lois - beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Lois - was there, taking in his fallen, burned, battered body. It was clear that she could see the striking slashes of scarlet and blue that had been, previously, hidden and tucked away safely beneath the persona of Clark Kent and his heavy clothing.

"L...Lo...Lois..." It was the best he could manage: a feeble acknowledgment of her presence, an acknowledgment that he tried to pour all of his awe and wonder and tears into. She knew his secret. She knew that Clark Kent was -

"Superman." Lois went pale and red and white and crimson twice, too overcome by the twist of fate to speak in proper sentences. "Oh - oh - oh - oh my...dear, _mother-effing _- C-Clark - you can't be..." Seconds passed without either of them whispering a word. Impatient fire roared all around the two lonely souls, and Lois finally managed to say, "...You can't be _Superman._"

"I don't have to be," Clark whispered and closed his eyes, remaining absolutely still in the ever growing flames. "Lois...please - just _go_."

There was a moment of silence.

Lois Lane stared down at him. She stared down at the father of her child - at the world's savior, now defeated by several, petty shards of kryptonite - at Clark Kent - Superman - the alien - her lover - her friend - the quiet one - the strong one - powerful beyond comprehension - always bumbling and shy and sweet - the one who liked to eat burritos and didn't mind loaning her his stapler at work - the one who'd always been an unsolvable mystery to her and an immortal enigma to the rest of the world -

Clark Kent. She was looking at Clark Kent. She'd always been looking at Clark Kent.

"No -" Just as Lois was about to break down and start crying for all the moments in the past when she had wanted to cry but didn't - an ominous crack resounded throughout the entire floor. The ceiling above them gave an angry shudder, and, quicker than either of them could react, a downpour of granite came raining upon the man laying at her feet. Clark did not cry out in pain as a heavy chunk of stone hit the side of his skull. Instead, he merely breathed a whisper of farewell - _"Goodbye...Lois." -_ and lapsed into a world of unconsciousness that mankind had always feared.

"C-Clark?" Lois said, fighting back panic. "Clark? CLARK?"

She crumpled to her knees and began shaking her fallen companion, "WAKE UP! Smallville - you can't do this to me - _WAKE UP!_" Tears began sliding down from her eyes as she rested her cheek against Clark's chest, listening for a heartbeat. She could hear no life within him.

_"NO! NO - NO - NO - NO -"_ She was shaking and sobbing violently, using her own body to protect Clark from seeing the destruction of all they had known. There was another crack - but this time, it was not the physical crack of a dying, city gargantuan, but was instead the emotional breakage of Lois Lane's whole heart, sanity, and mind. The sudden change in the young woman was frightening.

"You aren't dead," Lois snarled. She started to tear madly at the debris which pinned Mr. Kent to the ground. "You aren't dead - so wake _up_ and stand _up_!"

Her nails became chipped and bloody from pulling so furiously at the accursed wreckage, the scent of her own, burning skin adding more and more to her unbelievable horror. Smoke was making her tear up and cough. It was all she could do not to succumb to the desire of leaving Clark behind and escape the hellish scene. _This is not just Clark_, Lois said to herself. _This is Superman. This is Jason's father. This is the man who saved your life. This is the man who saved Perry's life. This is the man who saved the world._

Just as she finally managed to lift the last of the heavy fragments off of Clark, one of the building's support beams came crashing down. It landed, immediately bursting into flames on top of the only exit accessible to them.

"Oh - _damn it_!" Lois shrieked. She started to turn the other way. "We've got to try the windows -"

It was one of the worst struggles of her life, trying to lift Clark out of the wreckage while also not to stopping and staring at the red-and-blue suit visible beneath his bloody shirt. Part of her was thankful that Clark was not making any noises of pain, as the last time she'd heard him scream in agony from a Kryptonite wound had scarred her for life - but another part of her wished that he would elicit some sort of sound, as then she would know for sure that he was still with her.

Minutes ticked by in a mocking manner - the flames and the smoke and the blackness and the frequent crashes coming from all around them all seemed to be mocking her.

"We can do this," She said, more to herself than Clark, and felt around the walls for some sort of window. Clark's immobile body rested heavily against her shoulder, making the hunt for an exit even more difficult. It exactly three minutes and 34 seconds to find a window, and by then, the floor beneath them rumbled threateningly. Soon enough, the structure that had once been her second home, her life, her happiness, would fall forever.

"Clark - you'll have to lean on my shoulders," She announced, banging a fist against the smudged glass. Clark gave no response - only bleeding a little more. "HEY! OVER HERE!" Lois screamed as loud and as high as she could, trying to capture the attention of the firefighters below. _"WE'RE UP HERE!"_

It did no good. Although she was wailing and screeching and sobbing, the now-quickly-growing flames were swallowing up her voice and its shadowing echoes. They were doomed - unless she could find some way to break open the window. Immediately, her thoughts went to the sharp heels she wore. Lois kicked off a shoe without hesitation, snatched it up, and then cracked it against the window pane. There was terrifying moment of nothingness - and then the glass shattered.

The people below instantly heard the breaking sound. Screams alighted and fingers were pointed. Lois felt a steady, thrumming hope rise in her chest as she saw the authorities spot her and Clark.

_"HELP!" _She shrieked to them, waving her arm that wasn't occupied helping keep Clark in a standing position. _"Dear god - HELP!"_

But as quickly as the hope had come, it was broken. It didn't take her long to realize that they were too high up for the firefighters to reach them. She would have to -

_"Jump." _

Lois' head whipped down to look at Clark. The man wasn't stirring - only bleeding profusely - and she hadn't seen his lips move. She was doubtful that he could possibly have returned to the consciousness of reality in such a short time - but unless, of course, smashing open the window to let in the fresh oxygen and sunlight had strengthened him...

_"Lois...trust...me... ... ... ... Jump."_

And before she let herself think, Lois Lane jumped out the window, holding Clark Kent closely in her arms.


	3. A Miracle

**:D Thank-you, everyone.**

**"Hologram" by Katie Herzig, would be a nice little song to go with this chapter. :)**

**●▬▬▬▬▬๑۩۩๑▬▬▬▬▬▬●**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Lois Lane and Clark Kent were falling.<p>

Falling.

Falling.

F a l l i n g.

Not a spectrum of thought entered Lois' mind as they shattered through the air, momentarily free of reality. Clark was but a few breaths away from her, wearing a blank, unrecognizable expression, countless droplets of his own, scarlet blood staining the lens of his glasses. They were falling to their apparent death, and he seemed barely aware of it. Clark. Superman.

She still couldn't believe it - that Kent...that he was the Man of Steel. It didn't seem to be possible - it couldn't be possible -

but right then and there, in that very moment of falling and falling and falling, what was possible and impossible did not matter. Only then, did it truly sink in. They were going to die.

Holy shit. They were going to die - but the man she had always loved still spoke to her lovingly.

_"Lois... ...look at me... ..." _There was only a few heartbeats left before they would hit the ground, hit it hard, and vanish from existence forever - but Lois Lane looked. Clark's eyes opened, revealing pain, love, fading life and a goodbye, a farewell, a last apology - all before he summoned up the last reserves of his immortality and did something he had never attempted to do before.

Using the alien warmth that had always surrounded his flesh in the past, Kal-El willed the energy of his powerful aura to leave him and protect the woman in his arms. Glowing yellow light erupted on the instant he called upon his strength, and weaved itself into a thin cocoon of solitude around Lois Lane. Her multi-hued eyes went wide with shock, and, just for that moment, they shifted in color and began to shine a radiant, shimmering blue - the same exact shade as Clark's, Superman's, Kal-El's.

A euphoric feeling of power and strength flooded into her, and Lois was suddenly no longer so tired, exhausted, or weak from lifting Clark and inhaling the poisonous smoke of the flames that they had escaped. In that very minute, Miss Lane understood what it was like to hold so much _power_. She could comprehend what it felt like to be a god - a goddess - and to exist as an entity like no other. It was a breath-taking feeling - but also terrifying. She was beyond horrified that Superman had done this to her - that he had taken everything that made him who he was, and poured it all into _her_.

_".._. _... ..." _And three seconds before they hit the earth, Lois heard Clark say what she had been dreading. _"Miss Lane...good...bye..."_

Anger ravaged her mind, and the scent of blood filled the air as she embedded her fingernails into his now-vulnerable skin, piercing him as easily as fire would melt ice. How_ dare_ he! How _dare_ he leave her like this! He had _no_ right to poison her with such a sacrifice! He had _no_ right to give up his life for her!

_**"NO!" **_There was practically no time left, but Lois still gritted her teeth and screamed to the heavens, using her new-found strength to amplify her voice. At her command, the golden light exploded into sight once more, and then, with all her emotions and might - love, strength, sadness, worry, adoration, confusion, rage, defiance - she slammed forth Clark's life-force and force-fed it back into his system. Shimmering yellow burst and raged around them, swirling like smoke and mist and golden fog. It was working - Kal-El was beginning to stir - she could hear his heart beginning to beat again -

but she didn't have enough time to return all of what was rightfully his -

because just then, the ground rushed up to meet them.

* * *

><p><em>...<em>

_..._

_..._

_"Beep...beep...beep...beep..."_

_..._

_..._

_"Beep...beep...beep...beep..."_

_"Luthor...fi...fire... ... death... ... ..."_ Blackness was overwhelmingly omnipresent - but it was a weightless blackness, so breathing and speaking words of pain was not difficult. His throat felt extremely dry and cracked and exhausted. _"Lo...Lois...no... ... ... don't...too much... ... pain... ...hurting...you..."_

Warbled images of fire, blood, destruction; flickering visions of Jimmy Olsen reaching out to him, cameras flashing, hot smoke everywhere; revived memories of the agony, the love, the whispers, the secrets. When he tried to move, everything burned and ached - so he only opened his eyes. His first impression was darkness. Panic flooded into him when he believed that he'd gone blind, but, eventually, reality gave him a good, hard slap in the face.

"Clark." Familiar brown eyes locked onto him. "How're you feeling?" Richard White was sitting right next to him, his expression that of a stoic's. Never before had Clark seen this man look so...betrayed.

"Richard...?" He said, lacing his words with feeble conviction. "Where...where is -"

"Lois is fine," Richard answered. The man had already guessed what Mr. Kent had been about to ask. "She's in the next room, down on the left. You two both are in the hospital, for third-degree burns, broken bones, severe abrasions, exhaustion, and possible shock."

A heavy silence lapsed into existence.

"I've always wondered," Clark whispered suddenly, breaking the speechlessness. Richard looked at him. "I've always wondered which human...which human in this world...could possibly be...a hero...a savior...without the superpowers. Today...I realize...I realize that you - Richard White - are worthier of being...being Superman...than I am." Clark saw that his words had startled the brunette beyond audible response. "Mister...White...I am so...so...so _sorry_...for everything. All...I can say...now...is...thank you."

And then, out of the blue, both men found themselves embarrassingly close to tears. Clark blinked and pointedly looked away as Richard rubbed his watery, tired eyes with his coat's sleeve.

"So..." Richard coughed, trying to shrug off the awkwardness that had descended upon the two and attempting to recreate a casual atmosphere once more. "Clark Kent is Superman. _Really?"_

Clark blinked, his eyes immediately going wide with embarrassment at the question. Mr. White couldn't help but guffaw a tiny bit at how..._dorky_ Superman looked. Now that he knew Superman's secret identity, he could see the shocking characteristics of Clark Kent and the Man of Steel mixed together in the same person. It was really quite weird, knowing that he'd been working with Earth's savior and even - damn it - eating _burritos_ with him, without realizing who he was.

"Err - yes, sorry," Clark mumbled, tripping over his own words. "I never...you know, I never meant for you...or Lois...or Jimmy...or anyone, really, to find out this way...I'm really sor -"

"Clark!" Richard interrupted, sounding fairly exasperated. "If you say 'sorry,' one more time, I'm really gonna want to hurt you!"

There, sitting docile and doe-eyed right in front of Richard, the Man of Steel stared at him like a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar. It was just far too funny for Richard _not_ to break into a storm of unmanly giggles. And as he did this, Clark continued to look at him like he was a little child in trouble until Mr. White finally waved his hand and spluttered, "You're _Superman_! Oh, _hahahhahahahhahahahahaha_! The irony of it all! _Ahahahhahahahhahaha_ - Clark Kent is Superman! _Hahahahaha_ -"

Clark winced in a mix of fear and pain. "Richard, you're starting to scare me..."

"Oh, stop worrying, Kent!" The man covered his face with two hands, his shoulders bouncing up and down in silent fits of mirth. "I've needed a laugh like this! Hahahhahahahahahhahahaha! Lois - oh, haha - Lois couldn't ever have believed - hahahahaha - this! I even _asked_ her about you! I _knew _you looked a lot like Superman! Hahahahhahahahhahahahhaha -"

Superman stared at Richard; watched him unblinkingly as he laughed and giggled and chuckled away without a care in the world - and eventually that laughter and giggling and chuckling seemed to become infectious, for the Man of Steel started to laugh as well, not caring that the laughing made his aching bones ache even harder.

"_Damn_ - you - Richard!" Clark snorted, while wiping the tears of joy off of his eyes. It was just a bit of much-needed sunshine for his day; laughing in relief that they were all still alive; that Lois and Jimmy and Clark and Richard and all of them were still here, living, breathing -

"Ahh - is this...Super - Superman's room?" A timid-looking nurse's arrival interrupted their laughter. Clark immediately silenced himself. He stiffened instantly and held himself erect, tall, strong - even though the burns and bruises and cuts lining his flesh practically howled at being moved - and he adopted an expression worthy of a funeral-goer's. It took a minute for Richard to swallow how quickly Kal-El could shift from being Clark Kent to a superhero.

"Yes, it is," Superman replied, looking at the nurse unblinkingly. "What is it, ma'am?"

It wasn't very fair, Richard thought dazedly, for Clark to unleash the full force of his superhero gaze on a single woman. Even _he _had a bit of trouble meeting Superman's gaze, forget the average bystander. But Mr. White held his tongue and said nothing, waiting silently for the nurse's next, shaky words.

"Miss Lois Lane is having a bit of a - erm - _fit_, back in her room. The doctors can't control her...she keeps on saying she wants Superman..."

Superman blinked, and, in an instant, was struggling out of his bed, ignoring the searing pain that crisscrossed through his body - Richard stood up, alarmed, and tried to talk some sense into the other man - "Clark, wait, no - you're seriously hurt - you shouldn't be moving - " but it was like speaking to a brick wall until he finally gave up and shouted, "At least put on some real clothes!"

There was a moment of awkward silence. But it was broken when the quiet nurse broke into a fit of naughty giggles.

"I'll - I'll leave," the young woman said, covering her eyes with one hand, backing out of the room, and closing the room with her other, free hand.

"Richard -" Superman started to say, but he sounded a lot like Clark Kent right now, so Mr. White interrupted him, trying to preserve the little dignity both of them still had -

"What size are you?" He asked, coughing and looking away from the - *ah-hem* - sight before him.


	4. Dying

**This chapter was inspired by the sweet, sad little song, "Men of Snow," by Ingrid Michaelson. And don't worry. **

**I still remember that this story is supposed to be a tragedy. :) Sorry it took so long to upload - I was trying so hard to make this chapter perfect. xD Some of you didn't like the previous chapter, so I hope you like this one! There's language, and little bit of hurt-Clark, in this chapter, so just a warning. O-O Also; I uploaded this chapter twice, because I didn't like how the first version of this chapter turned out. xD So I edited it and made it nicer. :3 Read, enjoy, and review!**

_**"Winters come, my love, the winters go,  
>and time stacks up in piles like winter snow.<br>And everything you love and hold so dear  
>it won't really matter when we disappear."<strong>_

* * *

><p>Richard White loved a very special woman. This woman had these warm, mismatched eyes and these greats locks of soft, hazel hair. She had this musical laugh, a beautiful smile, and her happiness could be infectious. She was pretty and strong and sweet and good and so, so, so fragile. Richard had worried about this woman and cried over her and danced with her and had almost died for her. He loved to make her happy.<p>

He and this woman had one child. This child was a unique little boy with these big, gentle, blue eyes and a lonely, innocent soul. Together, they were their own family.

And Richard knew that this woman loved him back...but not nearly as much as she could have. Not nearly as much as he loved her.

It was because she had already fallen in love with another man.

This woman's name was Lois Lane.

* * *

><p>"I don't need a sedative, lady! I told you - I just need to talk to -"<p>

"Ma'am, please, we're trying to help! Just calm down -"

"Let me _go!_ I don't want to sleep! Let me -"

**_Click._**

Lois, and the nurse she had been arguing with, looked up as the door to the hospital room opened. Richard White stepped in.

"Richard," Lois breathed. She's been expecting Super... _Clark_, she meant, to come first...but Richard was just as welcome. Their gazes met - and it was without hesitation that they had reached a silent agreement. Lois glanced at the nurse still holding her wrist.

"Let go," said Lois. The nurse obliged.

"Can we have a moment?" Richard asked the nurse. As he received a blank stare on the nurse's behalf, he added, "...Alone?"

"Oh - of course," said the nurse, flushing with embarrassment. "I'll leave you two at it, then. Hopefully, you can talk some sense into this woman!"

"_I'd _like to talk some damned sense into her," Lois muttered, once the young nurse had gone. "More like smack it into her, the annoying b -"

"Lois." The quiet man gave his fiance a sad, strange, little look. Lois blinked. There was something in this look - perhaps it was the tiredness, the conflict, the aching disbelief - that stopped her words.

"Richard," she began to say, softly. "Richard, you really should rest..." But he shook his head.

She'd never seen Richard so..._exhausted_. Not even when Lois had seen his broken gaze in the sea plane, when she had been begging Superman not to leave in his injured condition; not to go back and hold up the weight of the world once more. Richard had been watching - not saying anything, just merely watching. When Superman had left in the end, when her hero, her friend, her lover, had closed his eyes and fallen back into the world of wind and rain and all those cries for the help, Richard had just looked at her, and his eyes had said everything that he couldn't have ever put into words.

_"I'm so, so sorry,"_ Lois finally whispered. Tears began to roll down in thick streams, and she covered her face, unable to meet his eyes. Her self-control, her strength, her defiance...they all had suddenly crumbled and she had become a little girl once more, weeping over all that had happened; all the pain and the blood and the secrets and everything else her love had been forced to endure.

Her thoughts twisted and cascaded together in a confusing jumble: Clark was Superman, and Superman was her best friend, and Richard loved her, and Richard sacrificed for her, and Jason was Superman's son, was Clark Kent's son, and Richard loved Jason like his own son, and there were people bent on destroying their peace...but Lois was still here - caught in the middle of everything, caught in the war with herself and the watching, waiting world, caught between the warm hearts and helping hands of a hero and a friend and a lover.

Clark Kent. Richard White. Superman. Her fiance. Her best pal. A father. _The _father.

"Lois - please don't cry," Richard came forward and he swept her into his arms and held her close. "_It's okay...it's okay..."_

But it wasn't okay. She had realized a long, long time ago, the exact moment when she first saw the fleeting blur of red and blue outside her failing plane's window. It would never be okay. Richard could never be as strong as Superman, he could never be as sweet as Clark, he could and would never be someone she truly loved.

It was all becoming too much.

The strange, alien warmth that Clark had tried to pour into her, to protect her and keep her safe, was still thrumming faintly inside of her. It had preserved her; had kept her from dying. However, Clark hadn't been able to give her all of this warmth - and they both managed to miraculously survive the great leap from the Planet's broken window. But of course, there were still scratches and bumps and injuries. Lois had broken three of her left ribs, cracked two of the eight carpal bones in her left wrist, and she ached and stung everywhere from countless bruises and abrasions. Only the Lord knew how badly Clark was fairing. The poor man had been shot - reportedly several times, although the nurses had told her that he'd been lying and saying that he'd been hit only once. He had obviously taken the worst of their fall.

Rumors were now running rampant throughout all of the Metropolis City hospital; she'd eavesdropped on so many ludicrous conversations, that only one had stuck with her.

_"...n_o man could've survived that fall_," One of the doctors had been saying quietly. "That man is Superman, no doubt. He was even wearing the blue and red costume!" _

_The other doctor had nodded. Lois had forced herself to keep still and pretend to be sleeping, trying hard to listen to their conversation._

_"But you know what else?" Whispered the first doctor. Lois strained to hear his next words: "There were..._normal _clothes that he was wearing! A tattered workman's tie. Bits and pieces of a brown suit. There was even the torn top part of a leather shoe around one of his red boots!"_

_"It makes sense," replied the second doctor. "Superman couldn't be Superman all the time, could he? Even a god needs some sort of break from the cape."_

**_Even a god._** The second doctor's words had been reverberating in her mind ever since Lois had first heard them.

* * *

><p>Richard had been nice enough to offer to buy Clark a new suit. Although Clark had fiercely refused - saying that he could not leech off of Richard's services - in the end, Clark was forced to wear the black sweater, dark jeans, and dress shoes bought for him by Mr. White. They fit quite nicely, quite comfortably, really; but right then, clothes were not the most pressing topic. His mind was currently on overload. How was he going to face Lois?<p>

Clark was sitting in one of the chairs right outside Lois Lane's room, trembling slightly, from the effort he was giving not to collapse on the floor in pure exhaustion. Everything hurt. It wasn't even reasonable to say that he was enduring pain - he was enduring _agony_. Even though the doctors had managed to surgically remove the bullets of solid kryptonite from his flesh, they didn't realize that his bloodstream had become exposed to the kryptonite for far too long a duration of time. There was no possible way for the tainted blood to be pumped out of his system, and so Clark, not wanting to distress or guilt the medical professionals, had lied and said he was feeling _much _better.

The truth was...

He was infected. And he was dying.

But he wasn't afraid. Oh no - he had long passed that stage of fear. He'd skipped dread, ignored terror, and was right now petrified to the extent of silence.

What would happen now? Once he had...had _gone_, Lex Luthor would step forth and destroy everything Superman had tried to preserve. Lois and Jason would be in constant danger. His mother would be alone. People would die. There would be calamity and chaos and death.

If _he_ ended, everyone else would end, too. _It was all his fault._

Clark buried his face in his scratched, aching hands, feeling the burn of tears strike his eyes. How would he face Lois? And Richard? And Jason? And Martha? They would scream at him. Wail. Cry. Curse. He was a terrible father. A terrible friend. And a terrible hero. He had damned each and everyone of his loved ones to Hell.

_"I'm so, so sorry," _Kal-El whispered. He looked down at the shiny hospital floor, and then stared back up at the ceiling; finally he leaned back in his chair, and closed his blue eyes, breathing hard. Each breath had a bit of his death hiding behind it; a tiny prick of pain that occurred with every sigh, and that tiny prick of pain that had slowly begun to expand into something greater, something worse.

After three hundred breaths - he'd counted each and everyone of them -, and after that pricking pain had grown into a tangible force that rammed into his lungs and ribs every other second, Richard White's footsteps came out from behind the wooden door. Clark quickly hid the expression of pain on his face and fixated a rather weak smile upon his pale lips when Richard looked his way.

Clark started to ask, "Is...Is Lois...?" But Richard nodded and he didn't have to finish his question. Clark then stood up carefully - trying to act nonchalant and easy about it - but his left leg gave out at the last moment, unable to properly hold his weight, and he adopted a painful limp. Richard stared at him in alarm.

"...Kent," Richard said, looking concerned. It seemed as if he was struggling with what to do - should he offer a hand? get a wheelchair? - before asking, "Are you...alright?"

Clark gave the other man a smile that was much too forced, too bright. "Of course!" He assured, nodding pleasantly. But Richard winced. How.._.Superman_ was acting...was genuinely starting to frighten him. It was with great effort that Richard managed to shove away his suspicions and beckon for Clark to step over the open doorway.

* * *

><p><em>"Lois?"<em>

The brunette heard the door close shut quietly. She turned slowly, forced to tear her gaze away from the world outside of her little window.

"Superman," said Lois, not daring to blink. There, standing in front of her, was Superman. And Clark Kent. She could see them now, in the pale hospital light, the striking similarities between the "two" people, the same burning, beautiful blue eyes.

She took this delicate moment to study this man closer.

His clothes were ones that she hadn't ever seen Superman nor Clark wear. Much more casual and yet, somehow, much more fine than what Clark Kent usually wore. The dark pallets that covered him easily brought out the ravishing handsomeness that she had failed to see all of her life at the Daily Planet. But this handsomeness was...marred. For right then, Lois had suddenly noticed how _pale _Clark had become. Pale to an unhealthy extent.

With growing alarm, Lois began to see each and every wound, each and every injury, each and every cut on the man. Each and every one of the faint, barely perceptible, gray circles that hung below his tired blue eyes. Clark's appearance was ragged - broken; his black hair was sultry and ungroomed; his posture was bent, as though the very thought of standing hurt him; and, a sight even more terrible to her horrified eyes, there were these ugly, red, blistered welts that could be seen crookedly running down from his white throat, to beneath the sleeves of his sweater, and ending at his greatly scarred hands. _And that was just what she could see right now._ His torso was probably burned and marred and beaten from those flames, the spray of bullets - his legs, his arms, his heart: all bruised and broken.

"What should I say?" said Clark. The sound of his voice - soft yet bold, light although heavy, sad albeit relieved - broke the brittle ice over her thoughts, chased away the bitter numbness, and swept her up briefly into the daydreams and memories of those happier times. But his next words broke the brief reprieve she had gotten into sanity. "How should I apologize?"

Lois sighed, and she shook her head. "You don't have to -"

"But I do, Miss Lane," he replied. This wasn't Clark speaking - this was Superman. "I do have to say sorry. For everything I've ever done, have done, and for everything that may happen." And he took two, shaken steps towards her, but then stopped. He asked, "I should keep my distance, shouldn't I?"

"No," said Lois. A momentary gleam of genuine terror could be seen reflected deep within her darkened eyes. "No - please - you're one of the few people keeping me sane in my life. I _need_ you, Superman. The _world_ needs you." Her voice lowered. "..._Jason_ needs you."

Suddenly, a laugh escaped Clark's lips. It was such a grim, unhappy, terrible sound, that Lois couldn't quite comprehend its presence at the first hearing of it. But when she did - the woman finally snapped. She crossed the distance between her and Clark in three short strides, and, practically beating at his barrel chest with her weak hands, screamed, "_Why are you laughing? !" _His laughter instantly stopped.

_"There's nothing to laugh about!_" She continued to cry, taking fistfuls of the loose black sweater he wore and shaking them. _"Why the hell are you laughing?"_

She was trembling with anger as Superman looked down at her. But her rage vanished when she saw his expression - and the he gave her was one of such compassion, such tender love; an expression so powerful that she suddenly felt ashamed of herself.

"I'm laughing," he said softly, whilst giving her a smile of utter misery. "Because I am a horrible father. I don't deserve such a beautiful son - I don't deserve Richard's friendship - and I don't deserve _you_, Lois."

Miss Lane was too startled to cry out.

"Lois," said Clark, and he finally met her multi-hued eyes, the blue touching the green and the brown. "Lois, I'm dying."

And Lois Lane stared at him, her gaze point-blank shocked. Her brain would not - _could not_ - register his words. She felt herself go hot - then cold - then hot again; she was melting, and then she was freezing; she was shaking and breaking and crumbling and was ready to lash out and scream and crumple to her knees, ready to start begging and sobbing, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything, anything at all, really - she wouldn't let Clark see her grief, her mourning, her insanity.

So she closed her eyes and felt that dark world spin in a whirlwind of emotions and words and memories; she closed her eyes and allowed the painless sleep to embrace her; she closed her eyes and collapsed, at the feet of a being she could never live without.


	5. An Understanding

**Well...I'm back. *cough* Yeah. **

**...I'M REALLY REALLY SORRY FOR NEVER UPDATING THIS STORY. Dx I hope you guys can forgive me.**

* * *

><p>He was standing in this rushing myriad of people - of children, mothers, fathers - of truth - of lies, his figure solemn, his charcoal hair twisted and bleak, his skin milky in the sunset.<p>

_"How could you? You promised you'd stay."_

_"I know -"_

_"But you seemed to have forgotten."_

Cold little pricks on his shoulders told him it had begun raining. Clark swallowed.

_"I'm sorry."_

_"I'm sorry? I'm sorry? Don't give me that bullshit, Kent -"_

_"I thought I was Superman?"_

_"One problem at a time."_

_"Lois -"_

_"You _promised._"_

It wasn't as though he were leaving on purpose. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't, really.

The thunder let out a low, slow hum in the distance.

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Say something else other than 'I'm sorry,' Clark!"_

_"..."_

_"Well?"_

Well - what was he supposed to say? What was the magic answer to her question? He wasn't Superman anymore, why did they still expect him to read minds? Why couldn't Lois -

"Ah," he groaned.

It was a sharp pain brought Clark back to his surroundings. He clutched at his chest and a pitiful noise slipped through his lips. Hands clenched, eyes creased. Eventually, the bout of pain vanished.

Clark had been standing - now he was on his knees, panting slightly. A bitter mixture of frustration and disgust at this realization washed over him. Such a feeble disturbance had sent him tumbling down.

Without warning, the weakened Kryptonian screamed.

How could he have let this happen? How could _Superman _have let this happen?

He screamed and screamed and felt his mind begin to break from all of this. _Lois. Lois. Lois. Lois. Lois. Lois._ He didn't know how long he'd been screaming before he'd caught the attention of the nurses.

Cold, latex hands touched him, tried to soothe him. When he fought back, more hands blossomed out of the corners of his little world. They restrained him. They struck him. They sedated him.

* * *

><p>Richard roamed the hospital's glossy halls.<p>

He passed shut doors and open ones - the open ones filled with life or faded life; a family surrounding an ill loved one, offering words of love and encouragement; a man holding the hand of his sleeping spouse; a mother pushing hair out of her little one's eyes; or a single spirit looking at the ceiling, swimming through their loneliness.

A thought struck him.

_Clark _had no family to surround him. Richard bit his lip. Clark only had his adoptive, human mother. His Kryptonian family had perished when he'd been but a baby.

His grim demeanor softened into a sad expression. More realizations trickled in.

Clark had no wife - being Superman meant that saving others would always taken up your time. Clark had no space left for marriage in his life. No space left for commitment. "Forever yours" was nonexistent in a God's world.

Where did Clark live? Richard wondered. Maybe he'd flown back to his mother's home in Smallville every night. Probably not. Even for someone as fast as Superman, it would take too long. Besides, crime didn't just happen during the daytime. It happened everywhere, all over the world, at all different times.

Images of Kent arriving at work on some days flitted through his mind. The dark circles beneath those blue eyes; the tired, aching manner in which he'd moved for a days after the earthquake. Where had Clark ever stolen the chance to sleep?

"Careful - the man's volatile, but don't pull those straps too tightly. He's a hero, after all."

"Yes, doctor."

Richard's head snapped in the direction of those voices. They floated from past the corner. He broke into a run and slid to a halt: security guards were surrounding the fallen body of (Richard craned to see the face, in vain) a nondescript, fully-clothed man and lifting him into a wheelchair. When they stepped out of the way, Richard felt his heart freeze.

Clark was dead.

No - perception of reality returned - he wasn't dead, thank God, he was just...sleeping...unconscious. He was just really, really, _really _pale.

What happened? Richard thought anxiously. Lois had passed out earlier when she'd been screaming at Clark and Clark had called the nurses to take her back to her room. He'd had been supposed to stay in bed and rest. Instead he took great risk to leave - where?

Damp hair and rain-stained clothes told Richard that Clark had been outside.

But - why?

He studied the swollen cuts adorning the man's throat, slowly drifting up to a bruise marring his upper cheek.

Then, unexpectedly, Clark's eyes opened. Their gazes met and Richard jerked back in surprise. These eyes weren't Clark's - they were Kal-El's.

They were bright and violent and unrecognizable, melting with agony.

_To escape it all_, the alien whispered. _To leave it all behind._

And Richard understood.


End file.
